


Harley and Ivy’s First Therapy Session

by dratiniprincess



Category: Batman (Comics), Harley Quinn (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 18:25:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7903063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dratiniprincess/pseuds/dratiniprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Harley even met Joker, she worked at Arkham Asylum as a psychiatrist and therapist. This is her meeting Ivy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harley and Ivy’s First Therapy Session

       “My name is Harley Quinn, I will be your psychiatrist and therapist during your time here,” Dr. Quinzel said, her voice as stiff and cold as Ivy would expect from anyone pretending to be a doctor in this hell. She paused at her office door.

           “Hold on a moment.” Quinzel looked down at her notebook. She suddenly looked up cheerfully, her entire disposition changing. “Yep, I’m not being recorded today. Not that they’d fire me anyways. I mean, Crane still works here.” Ivy stared as the strange women put a finger in front of her mouth, giggling, and opened the door.

           Quinzel’s office looked like it was from a different dimension than the Asylum. Everything was brightly colored. Teddy bears and dolls littered the floor and desks, along with marbles and kinetic sand. But what caught Ivy’s attention were the small plants in each corner.

           “I read in you file that you liked plants, and I felt the room could use some brightening up anyways,” Quinzel said happily, sitting down in a swivel chair and spinning around to face Ivy. “That one over there – the person at the plant store said it needed moderate shade, but the tag said it needed shade, I assumed you knew how to –“ Quinzel stopped speaking as the plant grew and waved a tendril threateningly.

           “Is this some kind of joke? A test?” Ivy said, standing up, “You think you could taunt me by showing me weapons? That you had enough control to stop me from killing you?” Harley side glanced at the plants, looking completely unsurprised.

           “Well, there are worse ways to die than being strangled by a plant,” Quinzel said, nodding. “Look, I know I’m thoroughly irritating and therapy’s depressing and boring, but at least I’m not Keith.” Ivy remembered the man who whistled at her when she came into the Asylum, the other psychiatrist. Ivy put the plants back to their normal size. This was preferable, at least.

           “Thank you. ‘Patient was mild-mannered and compliant with therapy rules,’” Quinzel said while writing each word in her notebook. “So, since this is our first meeting, there are some required questions. ‘Which symptoms brought you in here today?’ Yes, because everyone forced to go to therapy at gunpoint has a clear list of therapy goals in mind. Thank you, Staff. ‘Which symptoms do you believe have contributed to your violent and criminal activities?’ Blah, blah.”

           “Okay, do you have any symptoms you actually care about fixing?” Quinzel asked, putting down the sheet of questions and looking vaguely serious for once. Ivy glared. “Suicidal ideation, intrusive thoughts, hallucinations, mood swings, trouble focusing. There’s often something I can help people with. And as shitty a place this is, I am here to help.”

           Ivy tightened her lips. As if she would listen to this women. This was an obvious attempt to find Ivy’s weaknesses. Harley tilted her head at Ivy. Ivy’s skin looked pallid, her eyes dull. Her cheekbones and ribs were too visible to be healthy. “Have you been eating okay?” the therapist asked. Ivy said nothing.

           “Okay then,” Quinzel said, after determining Ivy wouldn’t tell her anymore, “well, do you have any goals you were trying to accomplish? A villainous incentive of some kind?”

           “I can’t live without the sunlight. I’m dying,” Ivy said, staring determinedly at the ground. Ivy already wasn’t allowed to see outside, it’s not as if her therapist could use this information to deprive her of something. What did she have to lose? To Ivy’s confusion, Quinzel looked genuinely horrified and sympathetic.

           “I’m so sorry, I had no idea,” Quinzel stuttered slightly,” I mean, we probably should have figured that out, you’re half plant, but. I’m going to fix this. I’m going to fix it right now.” Harley stood up. “So, um, we’re done for today. You know, of all my patients, you just set a record low for amount of times threatening my life. Congratulations, I’m impressed.” Harley held the door open for Ivy. “Remember to tell the guards therapy was soul crushing and made you feel resigned to be a better person.”

         “Hold on.” Quinzel stopped Ivy at the door. “I am going to need you to put that piece of the plant back.” Quinzel looked at the vine thoughtfully. “Well, maybe if you only use it to kill Keith. Ah, no, the guards would probably hurt the plants. So just, hand me that back. Thank you! You can go now.”


End file.
